Addictions
by BigDamnHeros
Summary: My name is James Potter and I am addicted to many things. A look at three of James' most prominent addictions. LJ Please review!


My name is James Potter and I'm addicted to chocolate frogs.

I am addicted to many things but I would like to start here because chocolate frogs were my earliest memory. I was six years old and I had just fallen down outside. I had scraped my knee pretty badly, it was bruised and bleeding very badly, and my mother wasn't home. This may sound very cliché but my mother was the heart of the household. She was the lap in which I crawled to if I had had a nightmare; she was the purveyor of laughter and joy, and not to mention excellent cookies. She was also a very good healer.

I shall freely admit here and now, that no matter how fun Dad ever was, I always preferred mum. Call me what you will, from ponce, to both Nancy's and Mama's boy, I always liked mother best.

Unfortunately Dad was the only person in the house, and he was a firm believer in learning only one healing spell _ever_ in his lifetime whether or not it was painful, so long as it was all purpose. So, unwillingly, I schlepped over to my father. He just chuckled and pointed his wand at my leg, and gave me a chocolate frog. The charms stung a heck of a lot. It stung and burned as I felt blood being mopped up, skin tightening and scabbing before scarring then healing all in a matter of seconds. I remember sniffling, and being almost on the verge of pathetic childish wails when Dad just said in a calm voice, "Eat the chocolate James."

When I obliged, I was given an insight that would make me light-years ahead of any boy my age in terms of understanding women.

Chocolate solves everything.

QQQ

My name is James Potter and I am addicted to Quidditch.

I just love the feeling of adrenaline you get when you are soaring in the air, swerving potentially lethal bludgers, and all the while you are racing towards the goal with a quaffle in your hand. Closer and closer, then the keeper moves in and you know you only have seconds to react.

The feeling of scoring a goal with odds like that is just incredible.

I remember my first game. I was nervous. And when I say nervous I mean that the butterflies in my stomach were being massacred by bats with a five foot wing span.

The rest of it passed in a blur. Literally. Everyone was moving so fact. There wasn't any time to think, you just had to _do_. Stuff like this is why I am good at Quidditch. It's a game of reflexes, and I was never much of a thinker. I'm someone who leaps straight into action. I follow my blood, which admittedly doesn't exactly rush in the direction of my brain. It was about halfway through the match when it happened.

I was chasing the quaffle which was at the time being clutched in the porky fingers of Mcnair, when a flash of brilliant blood red caught my eye. My body forced my head to jerk towards that amazing colour even as my mind screamed: _You bloody prat! The quaffle is right there!_ However it was fortunate that I had done so because in that moment, I felt the wind rushing and whistleing past my left ear. By turning to look at….whatever that thing had been, I had stopped my head being cracked open by a bludger. I eventually managed to score three times, making me one _very_ happy Quidditch player.

I always wondered what that beautiful red thing was.

QQQ

My name is James Potter, and the above mentioned addictions are complete and utter crap. And I speak this with a reverence of a man who truly knows what addiction is.

I am addicted to both my subject, and my addiction to her. I want her around me all the time, and I never want me to stop wanting that. I love the way she wrinkles her nose when she smiles. I love the fact that she has the most beautiful hair I have ever seem. I love the fact that one of her hands is slightly longer than the other. (I know this only through countless hours of staring at her obsessively. The difference is, however, very slight. You can only notice it when she is standing perfectly still. And even then it is hard to tell, almost as if she has let her fingers grow a bit too long on one side.)

I remember the first time she said yes. I remember almost swallowing my tongue when I went to ask her for precisely the one hundredth and twenty seventh time, "Will you go out with me?"

But she did even need to hear it. One look at my face and she sighed. Then she said, "For god's sake Potter! Meet me outside the portrait at the next Hogsmead weekend. But after that I never want to see you ever again."

We met, and we did indeed have a wonderful time. By the end of the day we were using first names. Something which I couldn't get enough of. I was addicted to the sound of her name, and also to the sound of her saying mine. But at the end of the day, she repeated what she had said a few nights ago, "After this, I never want to see you ever again."

But she did. I never knew why. And for once that is one mystery about her that I am not addicted to trying to solve. Because I'm afraid that any more reasons that I am given to love this girl might just make me burst with emotion. And any reason that might make me think that she doesn't believe me when I tell her so would crush me.

My name is James Potter and I want to be addicted to Lily Evans for the rest of my life.

**A/N:** EXACTLY 1000 WORDS! I haven't written much in a while and thought that I would try and cure my writers block with this. I have proof read this, but one or two, or ten mistakes often manage to slip through without me noticing.

PLEASE REVIEW!


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